The Duplicate

Chapter Three

The pistol prods my back as I step through my front door. Maybe it's all in my mind, but I swear I can still feel the chill of it even through my wool coat. Tears slip over my eyelids. They've been silently escaping since I got out of the car. And my stomach churns like a washing machine, like I might be sick any moment.

Behind me, I hear the flip of a switch, and the hallway light comes on, blinding me for a moment. I am still blinking when I hear the door shut and my kidnapper takes my elbow, his grip so firm, unyielding, I am sure he is bruising my skin. He pushes me forward, towards my living room, but as we draw near the door of the front bedroom, he stops.

With his gun, he pushes open the slightly ajar door. Once he flips on the light, I stiffly turn my head to look at him. For the first time, I see his face.

The first thing I notice is the line of dried blood running from the corner of his mouth... I'm a nurse. Of course, that would be the first thing I notice. The second—those gleaming eyes which don't seem to ever stop gleaming, even now as he scans the bedroom. They are a peculiar shade of pale blue, like ice. And they are just as chilling. When he turns and they land on me, a shiver rattles down my spine.

"Meow."

The sound makes both of us jump.

My eyes dart down to the big, gray fur ball which has just come prancing out of the front bedroom and is now affectionately rubbing himself against my kidnapper's leg.

Get a dog, my father said when I moved into this house. A big, mean, ugly dog that would bite a man's hand off if ever someone tried to break in. But no. I had to get a cat.

"Get. It. Off. Me."

I look up to find my kidnapper glaring down at Larry like he is about to kick the fur ball across the room. Quickly, I grab Larry up, and the minute he is slung into my arms, he turns into putty, head lolling back, paws kneading the air. His lawn mower purrs vibrate against my chest.

Scowling at Larry like he is a freak of nature, my kidnapper flicks his gun towards the dark living room, motioning for me to go on, and I obey.

He pushes me towards the couch.

For just a moment there I had started to hope that maybe I would get through this whole ordeal unscathed, untouched. I thought maybe this guy would just take whatever he wanted from my home and leave. But now I am expecting the worst as he shoves me down onto the couch, caring little that Larry is squashed in the process.

Frantically, I twist around to look up at my living, breathing nightmare.

But he isn't even looking at me. He is surveying the room. "Don't move," he says, backing away from me and starting for the doors across the room. He opens the door to my bedroom first, and I watch with a pounding heart as he flicks the light on and glances inside. The second door is the bathroom. He doesn't bother with the light this time.

Having taken his command quite literally, I haven't moved an inch by the time he is making his way back into the living room. I am frozen, like a bizarre statue, with Larry purring up a storm under my chest.

"Are you expecting anyone tonight?" my kidnapper asks.

Fleetingly, I think of lying. If he thinks someone may be coming over he might leave. But I am too scared of him to lie. I find myself shaking my head against the cushion of the couch, and with some effort, I speak past the lump forming in my throat. "What do you want from me?"

"Coffee, for a start," he says. I stare at him, not understanding. "Do you have any?"

"Coffee?" I ask.